


The Second Time

by dragonwings948



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s04e08 Silence in the Library, F/M, Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s04e08-09 Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead, Romantic Gestures, Sickfic, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21687964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonwings948/pseuds/dragonwings948
Summary: When the Doctor is poisoned on an alien planet, he’s shocked to discover that River is there to help him; but it’s only the second time he’s met her, and he’s haunted by what happened in the Library.
Relationships: Tenth Doctor & River Song, Tenth Doctor/River Song, The Doctor/River Song
Comments: 19
Kudos: 144





	The Second Time

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something Ten/River, but this ended up being a lot more angst and a lot less romance XD This definitely takes place some time post-S4 when Ten is traveling alone, but before The Day of the Doctor. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the feels! :D

The world was black as night. 

In a way, it was like floating through complete darkness. Only the way he was being roughly handled wasn’t quite as gentle as floating, and the sack over his head was starting to make his face itch. 

The Doctor heard a creak. The hands on his shoulders gave him a rough shove and he landed hard on his knees. And yet he barely felt the pain, because he was too busy examining his new surroundings as best he could. The smell of burning candles. The rough stone beneath him. The quiet breathing from several lifeforms in the room. The gentle swish of fabric as people walked. He inhaled deeply again, breathing in the dampness of the place. 

His stomach recoiled at the stench and bile rose in his throat. He wondered at his own reflex reaction until he remembered the sharp pain of the dart sticking in his arm. Funny, he’d almost forgotten about the poison. 

The sack was suddenly ripped from his head, and the subsequent clean breath quelled his upset stomach for now. The Doctor blinked, his eyes adjusting immediately to the warm light, and glanced at his surroundings. His previous observations had been right; they were in something of a throne room combined with a chapel. Ornate tapestries hung from the walls, and candles dotted just about every available surface. A magnificent silver throne sat on the other side of the room, preceded by a delicately embroidered carpet. The figures surrounding the throne were clothed in deep purple robes that hid their body shape and faces; the same kind of things that had captured and brought him here in the first place. The figure on the throne was dressed alike, though an ornate brooch adorned their robe. 

The Doctor raised himself to his feet and instantly regretted it. The ceiling seemed to spin as he tried to get his balance. 

_ Okay,  _ he thought to himself,  _ the poison’s really taking effect now. I have maybe...one minute?  _

__ He focused on the being sitting on the throne. “You must be this ‘Great One’ I’ve heard so much about.” He ducked his head a little, trying to catch a glimpse under the hood. No luck. 

“Silence.” The booming female voice resounded in the chamber. “You do not speak unless prompted. Now tell me, stranger: who are you, and what is your business with the Trell family?” 

A stab went through the Doctor’s gut.  _ Thirty seconds.  _ He masked his pain and kept energy in his voice. “I’m the Doctor,” he said quickly, “and I know you won’t believe me, but the Trells are dangerous.” This time the reaction to pain was involuntary. He let out a cry and clutched his stomach, falling back to his knees. 

“They have poisoned you.” It was a lifeless statement containing no sorrow or pity. 

“Yes.”  _ Fifteen.  _ “I was trying to find out what they’re up to when Lord Trell hit me with one of their poison darts.” He bit back a groan. “But if you believe me, we can work together to stop the Trells. They’re going to destroy Ganzoni, not help it.” 

Nothing. 

_ Five.  _ “Please,” he tried once again, mustering the last of his strength. “I’m trying to save you.” He gasped for air but felt there was none to be had. 

The Great One addressed her attendants. “Take him to my chamber so I may interrogate him further.” 

“Interrogate,” he muttered. He didn’t like the sound of that; luckily, it would probably take him months to recover from this poison once it had taken full effect. 

Black spots appeared in his vision. The Doctor tried to blink them away, wanting a clear view of the movements of the supposed deity as she approached him. But try as he might, the darkness started to overwhelm him. His body went numb just as the hooded figures grabbed him. 

Just as his eyes closed for good the Great One stood in front of him, as if reveling in his pain. But as consciousness faded away the last thing he heard was a voice, so soft he wasn’t even sure if he heard it, saying: 

“Hello, Sweetie.” 

* * *

_ He couldn’t save her.  _

__ _ It was like a test, a puzzle. Hundreds of times he had been stuck in this same scenario only to fail again, and again, and again… _

__ _ So now here he was. His fingers worked incomplete computer controls, playing through the memory. He felt a presence nearby and knew that any moment now he would feel— _

__ Wham.  _ It hurt worse every time; but even more painful than the blow was the fact that he knew what he’d see when he came to. A split second later he was there, handcuffed to a pipe.  _

__ _ For some reason, she was already dead this time.  _

__ _ Out of all the things he had seen, almost a thousand years worth of witnessing horrible scenes and unspeakable acts, no image had stuck in his mind quite like the one he witnessed now. It was exact, in every detail, from the day he had first seen it.  _

__ _ Her body was slumped in the chair. She looked peaceful, almost; the only sign of trauma was blackened skin around her temples.  _

__ _ The Doctor lurched forward in vain, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to go to her until Donna found him and let him go.  _

__ _ But this time, he found that his wrist was free.  _

__ _ He stumbled forward in surprise and ran to the chair. He delicately unwired her from the computer and framed her face with his hands. Her lips almost seemed to be set in a smile, like she was still holding tightly onto all her secrets, even in death. The Doctor swept his thumb across her cheek, capturing a tear.  _

__ _ The last testament of River Song: a single tear.  _

__ _ Then the loss hit him. It always came unexpectedly in this recurring dream; he had only known her for a few hours, anyway. But there was something inside of him that grieved for her like an old and dear friend, and it was something he didn’t quite understand yet.  _

__ _ Everything inside of him dropped to his toes. Tears stung his eyes. Another moment, and he struggled to calm his breathing. He didn’t know much about River yet, but he did know that she was so full of life that it wasn’t right for her to be dead.  _

__ _ “River,” he whispered. He longed to know why her name sounded so dear on his lips.  _

__ _ “Why can’t I save you?” His voice trembled and sobs rose in his throat. Time after time he couldn’t save her. Not only had he failed her in reality, but even in his dreams, a hundred times over.  _

__ “Why can’t I save you?”  _ he repeated as a yell, as a shout to the universe. Why? Why him? Why her?  _

__ _ And he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he’d have to do it all over again, and again, and again… _

__ _ “Doctor.”  _

* * *

__ He was awake in a moment, inhaling a quick gasp of air. Reality came rushing back. Ganzoni, Lord Trell, poison, darkness, the Great One…

But his nightmare took reality’s place again as he stared at the face in front of him. 

“It’s all right,” she said gently. It was the first time he’d ever heard her voice soft. “The poison’s gone; you expelled it in your sleep before it got to the final stage. However, judging by the nightmares, you still might be experiencing side effects.” 

Her words might as well have been gibberish for how much he was paying attention to them. “River?” 

She huffed a short laugh. “I was right, then. There are side effects.” She rose to leave, but the Doctor caught her hand. 

She turned to face him again, her eyes asking a silent question. The Doctor found, for once, that he didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t orient himself. How could he, the clever, all-knowing time lord, not even be able to tell dreams from reality? 

Before he could even open his mouth River knelt down beside him. She caressed his cheek and brushed his hair back from his forehead. Her eyes searched his, her expression exuding pity. 

“Were they especially bad this time?” she asked. 

“What?”

“The nightmares.” 

The Doctor’s mind plunged back into the terrible dream for a moment. What did she know about his nightmares? What did she know about him at all? 

Coming to grips with himself all in one moment, the Doctor pulled away from her touch. “I’m fine.” He started to get up and River jumped to her feet, reaching out for him. 

“Here, let me—”

“I’m all right,” he stated a little more emphatically as he stood. 

River crossed her arms and stood by with a frown. The Doctor felt her eyes on him as he wobbled on his feet, fell back onto the couch, and landed hard on his bottom. 

The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck, humbled. River retrieved a cup from the other side of the spacious room and held it out to him. 

“Now,” she began, her biting tone a far cry from what it had been a moment ago, “are you past your childish bout of stubbornness?” 

The Doctor wanted to argue, but he found that he didn’t have the voice. Instead, he silently took the cup. River sat beside him, just an inch too close for comfort. 

“Not so hard to admit you need help, now is it?” 

Once again her words brought a flare of annoyance and he felt the need to defend himself. He took a sip from the cup to occupy his gob instead and tasted some kind of sweet fruit juice. Just the small taste seemed to do wonders; his jumbled thoughts settled themselves in his head and he was able to affirm that this was reality, that River was actually here. 

“What happened?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

“I came here to investigate the Trells. It was going well, too, until you blundered in.” 

_ “Blundered?”  _

She laughed. “Yes! I had everything under control and then you came in and upset the balance. That’s why I had you removed here.” 

It all finally clicked in the Doctor’s head. He turned to give her a serious look. “I don’t approve of impersonating deities.” 

River smirked. “You rarely approve of anything I do.” She pulled the diary out of the folds of her cloak and the Doctor reeled at the sight of it. Memories of the Library came flooding back. It wasn’t fair. Every time he looked at her, she was already dead.

That’s how it was destined to be. Everyone dead, everyone gone, always just him. Alone. 

“Doctor?” 

He sighed, suppressing the emotions like he always did. He looked at River, ready to move on. But when he locked eyes with her he saw something so transparent. The River he’d met had been so guarded, so focused. Now she was here, sitting patiently, helping him. Healing him. It was still very much the woman who intrigued and irritated him, but a different side of her. 

She’d said that one day he would trust her completely. Maybe it was time to start. 

He felt the emotions swelling in him again: fear, pain, love, anger, joy, belonging, loneliness. He had been through so much in this life alone, and it was building up in him to the point that he could hardly bear it. How much longer could he keep it all trapped inside? 

He opened his mouth. Stopped. This was stupid. This was  _ wrong.  _ He had only met her once before; he shouldn’t trust her this much. 

But he owed it to her. The picture of her lifeless body came back to him and he had to look away from the River sitting right next to him, very much alive. 

Yes. He owed it to her.

He met her gaze again, took a deep breath, and began. 

“Rose Tyler.” 

River blinked. “I’m sorry?” 

“Rose Tyler. She was the first person I took with me after…” He paused. That was going too far.

“The war,” River finished, her eyes softening. “I know.” And those two words weren’t just an acknowledgement, but an invitation. 

So the Doctor continued. 

He spoke of his companions, of the places he had taken them, how they had all, in their own ways, broken his hearts. He talked about how he felt single-handedly responsible for their fates. He could barely bring himself to talk about Donna. 

He explained the insane plan of Davros and the Daleks. He told of his sense of belonging when his friends had all come back to help. 

But he also related Davros’ words that had stuck with him, about how he fashioned people into weapons. His greatest successes were also his greatest failures. 

And all the while River listened silently, patiently. As the Doctor vented frustration and anger, he found his head in her lap, her fingers stroking his hair as she listened. He was so caught up in his memories that he barely noticed it, but something inside him calmed at the touch. 

Finally he finished, so exhausted that he felt as if he could go to sleep again. He became more aware of River’s gentle touches and thought that he hadn’t felt anything like it in a long, long time. While part of him wanted to run from those kinds of feelings, another part of him was very much warming to it. 

There was silence when he was done talking; not uncomfortable, but companionable. River stared ahead, clearly thinking. 

“How many times have you met me?” she asked quietly. 

“Once,” he admitted. Before she could ask, he added, “Spoilers.” 

Her hand stilled in his hair. “Only once,” she mused. 

The Doctor sat up, looking into her eyes. He wondered at who this woman truly was, that he could trust her so completely already. 

“River, who are you?” 

Her eyes gave nothing away. She smiled sadly. “Spoilers.” Covering his hand with hers, she continued: “I know it’s hard for you right now.” She gently squeezed his fingers. “I don’t pretend to know what you’re feeling, but I know you’ve lost so much. It gets better.” She looked right into his eyes. “I promise it does. It’s still mad and complicated, but you heal, in time.”

He slipped his hand from hers. “I always do,” he muttered. “But it doesn’t make it any more right. It doesn’t mean it hurts less now.” It was always irritating when someone knew his future more than he did. 

But River wasn’t trying to gloat; she was trying to help. 

The Doctor ran a hand down his face and sighed. “I’m sorry, River.” 

Her smile returned. “Don’t worry. I was warned that this you was especially moody.” 

“Oi! Well to whichever one of me told you that, you can...I don’t know, steal his TARDIS.” 

“I already have done.” The smile turned into a devious grin, complete with a quirked eyebrow that was most definitely a challenge. 

He just shook his head. He didn’t have the energy to ask questions. 

“You should get some more sleep,” River advised. “That poison was an especially nasty one and you’ll need some more time to recover before we set out.”

The Doctor simply stared at her as she stood. “Where are we going?” 

She looked down at him like he was the biggest dunce in the universe. “To shut down the Trells.” 

“Together?” 

“Well I can’t have you ruining all my hard work, can I? Going with you is the only way to make sure you don’t mess up anything else.” 

The Doctor smiled. It would be nice to have someone along with him for a change; it had been a long time. 

As the Doctor settled back on the couch, River started to walk away. “River,” he called. 

She paused and turned her head. 

“Thank you.”  _ I’m sorry,  _ he added in his head, thinking of what was to come for her.  _ I’m so, so sorry.  _

The Doctor closed his eyes. As he drifted off, a hand slipped into his. 

His dreams were free of nightmares. 


End file.
